


Together

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Straw's Super-Amazing Fantastic Quarantine Request Booklet Extravaganza [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Natasha Romanov gets a funeral, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, POV Second Person, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Reader died in the Snap, Reader-Insert, death and reunion, no shaming depressed!Thor, reader is an avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: A bittersweet ending is better than no ending at all.
Relationships: Thor (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Straw's Super-Amazing Fantastic Quarantine Request Booklet Extravaganza [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748251
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by patrick/skywaalker on Quotev.
> 
> I'm not terribly proud of this one. I'm sure part of that is because I do not _like_ _Endgame_ , but a larger part is that the narration isn't very good. With this being my _third_ attempt at a draft for this, though, (by which I mean I tried three different stories for this, not that I only wrote it three times) I simply have to accept this isn't a story I'm going to get to a point that makes me happy.
> 
> **Prompt** : _Endgame_ -compliant; loss+reunion; established relationship

How strange it felt to find yourself in a world familiar with going on without you. How strange it felt, even, to sit in a place that belonged to you after Thanos blew to ashes. You had spent many of your days and nights in this very kitchen long ago. Your private floor in the old Avengers Tower showed very little evidence of your five-year absence beyond that removed when you uprooted to the New Jersey facility of your own accord. Tony's designs specifically for you remained in place; dusty photographs of you with the estranged half of the team remained pinned to the fridge. These little bits of your life you'd chosen to part with were all that remained now of who you once had been. 

None of it belonged to you anymore—not the photos, not the personal touches, not the life. The ringing silence in the tower made that more obvious than ever. Most of its occupants had either left for home, or, in the case of those that could call this home, were on their own floors, entrenched in grief. You didn't know why you had bothered coming here. No, that was a lie. Pepper had invited you, and, if you were being fully honest with yourself, you had thought _he_ might be here waiting for you. He wasn't. Even after you made the horrible trek to your best friend's floor to retrieve what few things _she_ had left there, even after you found each and every artifact of your own that reminded you of her, he didn't show up. 

Tears filled your eyes so thoroughly that they obscured the image that you held in one hand. The lack of lighting natural or otherwise didn't help. You knew well what that image was: You and a beautiful redhead smiling together after the Battle of New York. At the time, that had seemed like the worse you would ever experience. How naive you'd been. She'd always told you that, too. Your hand trembled so badly at this thought that you dropped the photo into the pile below. Then you let out a tremendous wail and buried your head in your arms. 

"Dammit, Clint!" 

He should have been there. They _all_ should have been there. You weren't saying they should have been there for _you_ , though that would have been nice. What you were saying was that Natasha had died for them. Tony might have given up his life in the end, too, but there was a major difference there: He'd left a body behind. Maybe that was it. Anyone could _see_ that he needed a proper burial. Once those arrangements had been taken care of, all your former friends had left to their own reunions via Dr. Strange's portal magic: Scott and Hope to California to see Cassie; Clint to his ranch to reunite with his family; Steve to who-knew-where with Sam and Bucky. 

Which just left you to arrange Natasha's service. Just you, because there had been no one waiting for _you_ all those years that you'd been gone. You _thought_ you had had someone, but after the dust settled, he disappeared without a word. Sure, you could have thrown a fit. Demanded the rest of them stick around, take a seat, write something pretty down for God's sake. But they all had loved ones waiting when you did not. She'd been _your_ best friend anyway. So why the hell couldn't you just force yourself to get the job done? 

Someone knocked at the entrance to the kitchen behind you. Before you could so much as stiffen at this sudden unwanted intrusion, a deep voice said: 

"[Name]." 

The familiarity of that voice had you sitting up straight at once. Thank God he couldn't see you in the state you were in from his position. Your grief was such that you hadn't even registered the sound of the lift opening up in the hallway. You were not prepared to see him now. 

"Thor?" you croaked. "Is that you?" 

A long enough pause followed your question that you thought you must have started to imagine things. Then at last an answer came: 

"Yes." 

No amount of wiping at your eyes would conceal your recent crying jag from him. Still you had to try. "I...I'm sorry. I'm not—I looked for you, after—after Tony..." 

"I know." 

"You know." 

"Yes. I know." 

It used to be that any sign of tears on your part would spur Thor to do something—anything—to put an end to them. He would move mountains, perhaps literally, to make you smile. Even in your current position, you were aware enough to notice that he wasn't trying anything now. No approach, no soft word of comfort. Just stony silence that seemed to go on for ages. An explanation for why wasn't necessary either. 

"Perhaps I should not so swiftly have left the scene of the battle," he said hesitantly. "After all that has happened, I did not know how best to speak to you." 

A lump in your throat prevented you from informing him that _any_ attempt to speak to you would have been preferable to his rapid disappearance. Whether he already knew this or felt he needed to go on _because_ you said nothing, he continued: 

"Much has changed since last we met. Much has changed." 

"Do you think I don't already _know_ that?" you asked, not entirely able to keep the bitterness from your voice. 

"No. I did not mean to imply your ignorance. Of course you've already realized—" 

"Pepper told me about New Asgard. Bruce mentioned Ragnarok. And Natasha...Natasha's..." You couldn't say it. The lump in your throat swelled out over your tongue as more water sprang into your eyes. It was a struggle for you add in a whisper, "and there's someone else." 

Giving voice to this belief was the final straw for your frayed nerves. A day of endless grief on what otherwise should have been one of great celebration crashed over you with all the power of an enraged Hulk. No longer could you pretend. All you could manage was biting your lower lip so hard that it bled. Unfortunately, this action did nothing to prevent the sobs from bursting out of your mouth. Of all the horrible things you'd learned that afternoon, none hurt so much as the knowledge that Thor had moved on. You had loved him. No. You loved him still. From your perspective, only a day had passed since Thanos stood between the two of you in Wakanda. For him, it had been five years. 

Your shoulders shook as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. It wasn't fair. You weren't being fair to either of you. Thor wasn't being fair himself, though. He remained so quiet again for so long that you thought he must have left rather than admit to your face that your unremembered death had brought an end to the most meaningful relationship you'd ever had. So convinced of this were you that you at last let go of your lip to allow full voice to your cries, only for Thor to pick that moment to say: 

"I do not understand what you are saying." 

"It's _okay_ , Thor!" 

As you shouted this, you twisted in your chair to look at him at last. The darkness combined with your crying made it impossible for you to make Thor out as anything more than a large, vague shape standing in the hall. You inhaled as deeply as you could before going on: 

"I was gone for a long time. You had to move on. I'm not going to ask you to give me a second chance, or to comfort me, or anything like that." 

"You misunderstand me. Where you obtained any notion that I found someone else with which to share my love—or that I should even _desire_ to find to find someone else—! No. There is no one else, [Name]." 

"Then why won't you come any closer?" 

"Because while I have not taken another, things _have_ changed. _I_ have changed." 

"What does that _mean_?" you asked impatiently. 

"It means that you have no reason to fear I ever stopped loving you...but that _I_ have cause to believe you will stop loving me." 

"As though you could ever change in any way that could make me stop loving you." 

"You must hear me out. After I failed to destroy Thanos, I fell into even greater despair. Had I done what I ought to have done from the very start..." 

Slowly, you rose from the table. The conversation had staunched your crying well enough that you could see your way across the tile floor and to the doorway. As you moved closer, however, Thor backed further into the shadows. 

"You deserve better," he said. 

"There's no one better than you," you replied, drawing to a stop at the opening. 

"If only you knew—" 

"It doesn't matter. Whatever happened, I don't _care_ , Thor. Just let me see you. _Please_." 

Perhaps it was your begging that finally convinced him. He froze in place while you stood where you had stopped, waiting, watching, hoping he was not about to flee from you forever. A minute or so later, he stepped into the kitchen. You stepped backward to allow him space. Thor moved slowly, as though he had to force himself to take every inch he captured. Finally he stood near enough that you could see him in full detail, and you realized: Things _had_ changed. His hair had grown back. His beard was bigger and bushier. His new eye patch had disappeared. 

A wordlessly cry broke free of your throat as you threw yourself at him. As always, he managed to catch and steady you with ease. Thor allowed you to cry into his neck after he'd settled you back on your feet, supporting your weight without any effort at all—but still he did not embrace you. 

"Thor, what's the matter?" you asked. 

He carefully shifted you away from him once more. A grim expression came upon his face. "Do you not see?" 

"See _what_?" 

"How I have changed, and not for the better." 

"So your beard got a little janky." You huffed. "So what? You've had a lot on your mind lately." 

"No. Look lower." 

You did. 'What am I supposed to be seeing?" 

"There is no point in soothing my ego. I have neglected to care for myself since you passed, [Name]. I confess that I did not see reason to do so. I have gained weight, let myself go—and you are just as beautiful as ever." 

Your eyes snapped up meet his. For the first time since Tony had died, yours were entirely dry, and you could see the you felt grief in Thor's expression. He _really_ thought— 

Before he could move, before he could think up one more argument about how you couldn't be together, you stood on your toes, grasped the edges of his jaws in both hands, and kissed him on the mouth. How long was that kiss? You couldn't say. Time felt a lot more irrelevant than it once had. You might have kissed Thor for the same amount of time you'd been dead. No matter the answer, you were breathless when you broke apart to say: 

"I don't give a _damn_ what you look like." 

Thor's brow furrowed. "You don't?" 

"No. I _love_ you." When you moved forward again, it was only to sling your arms over his broad shoulders so you could whisper in his ear, "I'm sorry I left you here like that." 

Another long pause followed your apology. You could hear nothing during that pause except for the current of electricity in the walls, your own breaths caressing the skin of Thor's neck, and his steady heartbeat. This was it, you thought. If he walked away, you had to respect it. Newly resurrected people couldn't just expect a single kiss to erase half a decade of grief. 

The body between your arms shuddered once, as though a sudden blast of air conditioning had surged through the room. You screwed up your eyes, preparing to lose Thor forever—only for him to instead wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to the top of your head. 

"There is nothing for you to apologize for," he said huskily. "I should have been there sooner. I should have aimed for the head. I should have..." 

"We could spend the rest of our lives going over what we should have done. It doesn't matter anymore. It's _over_. All I want from now on is to be with you as often as I can." 

You and Thor broke apart. As usual, the wide smile on his face was impossible for you not to return. Everything seemed like it was going to turn out all right, up until the point where his pleased expression twisted into a frown. He explained himself before giving you any opportunity to ask what was the matter. 

"I am afraid that I've already booked passage on a ship for a distant galaxy. Believing that you would no longer have me, I had no desire to remain on earth. The notion still holds little allure for me." 

"So?" you asked, when he said nothing more. 

"So...I will no longer be on this planet to spend time with you." 

"I got that part. So when do _we_ leave?" 

"We?" 

"Yeah. We. I'm not letting you get away from me that easily. Does that ship of yours have room for one more?" 

A second more of thinking elapsed before Thor got your hint. He beamed again, placed each of his hands on either side of your hips, and lifted you into the air for a quick spin. This moment of joy could not entirely be doused by his answer: 

"There _will_ be room for you. I will ensure it. We leave as soon as the funeral is over and I can inform Valkyrie of her promotion to queen." 

Valkyrie. That sounded vaguely familiar. You also wondered exactly why Thor remained so eager to leave earth. Hopefully you'd have a long, long time for him to explain all the details later. 

For the time being, you simply slipped your hand into one of his and said, "Thank you. But I hope you know we have to stay for _two_ funerals...provided I can keep myself together long enough to plan Natasha's on my own." 

"Not alone." He took that hand and led you back to the table. "Not anymore." 

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather go, I don't know, visit all the _other_ people that were gone?" 

Thor kissed you on the cheek, then gently forced you into the waiting chair. "You are the one I longed for the most. Perhaps I did not know her so well as you did—but you will not have to do everything on your own. It would be an honor to aid you in memorializing Natasha. She was a brave warrior and a good friend until the end. We will do it," he sat in the opposite chair, "together." 

Amazing what a little word like that could make you feel. No longer were you all alone in a massive world pulsing with love. You had an anchor—not _just_ Thor, but all the others that had been apart from you for so long: Steve and Sam and Clint and Pepper and all the rest. If they could not yet face the gaping maw of Natasha's death, at least you could. Thor sitting beside you—as he would for the rest of your new life—made even _that_ task seem endurable.


End file.
